I broke my old tiller, by leaning on it. I'm sure I have a knack for finding the weakness in any thing or system the first time I touch it, leading to its immediate breakage. I've just got to think about how to market this talent; something like "Need to test your thing or system? just give it to me and I'll find the first thing that breaks in record time".
Actually, the old tiller came with the boat, and has survived my attentions until now. It split along the grain at the back, where it pivots on a bolt. This area is also the most exposed to the weather, so it is not surprising that it split there. When I broke it, I was about 5 nautical miles from home, and had to nurse the boat back by holding the tiller in the rudder stock. It was not a disaster, but it was awkward when I needed to hook up Otto*, the ST1000 Tiller Pilot.
(* Stolen from the 2008 movie WALL-E**)
(** Its a pun, Otto/AUTO/Autopilot***)
(*** Bad dad joke)
So, I decided to make a new tiller.
The first thing I needed was a suitable piece of wood. Pine would be fine; light and easy to work, but I was open to suggestions.
I went to a local specialist timber merchant, nearby. "Timber", it said proudly over the gate. It also sported a very large shed full of nicely cut arboreal material of different types, sizes and lengths. I handed the old tiller to the fellow over the counter and asked, hopefully, whether he could sell me something to replace it with. He scratched his chin, and told me that he could not. Pine, apparently, was not sustainable. What about another timber? No. Too heavy and difficult to work. Perhaps I should try Louis' Woodturning on the other side of town.
I might have missed something here, but directing me to another retailer (which happened to be closed at the time) did not strike me as a sustainable business strategy.
Finding myself in the position of John Cleese, upon entering Henry Wensleydale's Purveyors of Fine Cheese, I decided that arguing was pointless, and left with my tiller and wallet fully in tact.
Fortuitously, I found a nice piece of pine in my little hoard in the back yard. It was an off-cut from the bunks I had made for the trailer. Further, it had been CCA treated for outdoor use, so promised to be quite durable. I cut out the billet, and began to shape the handle.
 |
| Billet for new tiller, with old tiller at rear |
 |
| Shaping the handle end |
I needed to cut some grooves into the aluminium angle, because the tiller stock had two cleats attached for securing the rudder in the up or down position. These cleats were held by round-headed bolts, with the round-heads protruding into the rudder stock. The old tiller accommodated these bolt-heads with some roughly gouged grooves. It took a little adjustment to get a snug fit. I shaved off the back a little, to allow the tiller to rotate freely on its pivot, and cut the length down to avoid a clash with the main sheet. The new tiller is longer than the old, which allows me to stretch a little less, when reaching for something forward with my free hand.
 |
| New tiller with aluminium angle reinforcement at rudder-stock, ST1000 bracket fixed, and cover, with old tiller behind. |
Another small improvement was the shape of the handle. The old tiller had a rounded square at the handle, but my version had a kind of upside down fat teardrop, which is easier on the hands and legs (one technique I am developing is to get both hands free by draping a leg over the tiller, and steering with that).
The new tiller now needed some external varnish. I think I have finally figured out why my previous attempts at varnishing have been rubbish. The missing ingredient was patience.
What I had been doing was applying wet varnish to all four sides of something, including the new tiller. This inevitably led to drips and runs of gloopy stuff that would not harden, especially on the undersides. I think the drips carry the more gelatinous fractions of the varnish compound with them, so you end up with a soft, gloopy snot that you can scrape off with your fingernail. Its probably obvious to experienced varnishers, but is seldom mentioned in on-line tutorials.
When I restricted myself to applying the wet varnish to the upper, flat surfaces only, I found that the gloopy snots would not form, and the coat would smooth out and harden within 4 to 8 hours, meaning that I could apply two every day. This turned out to be much faster than waiting a week or so for the gloopy snots to harden, and then attempting to sand them down. I could then lightly sand the hardened coat, and apply another layer, per the tutorials.
My other tip is that "lightly" sanded means very little downward pressure on the sanding paper. You should apply just enough pressure to move the sandpaper back and forth. Too much pressure, and you could rip the varnish off in rolls or crumbs. However, I found that to be less of a risk when there were none of those gloopy snots to deal with. This shows you the importance of only applying the wet varnish to flat, horizontal surfaces, so that the gloopy snots don't form.
Finally, I thought about getting a cover for the tiller, to keep the sun of my shiny varnish. The old tiller had crazed and flaked to a grey mess in the sun, and I liked the look of the honey-coloured pine grain. It occurred to me that, in my hoard of stuff that may one day be useful, I had the "sock" that an old hammock had come in. To my surprise, it was the perfect length and diameter.
In the end, the only new materials in my new tiller were the aluminium brackets and a tin of external varnish. The rest came from the hoards in my back yard. That's not to justify hoarding as a good thing in general, but just saying ...
Video of new tiller in the capable hands of Otto the TillerPilot
